Future Glimpse
by VortassianChick
Summary: Little spoofage episode set after the last episode of DS9. Just playing around with my new fave actor.
1. Chapter 1: Alone

**_Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_**

_Episode: Unknown_

_By: MTrek_

_Little spoofy I felt like doing. ;D Hope y'all get a kick out of it!_

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Weyoun 9 shifted uncomfortably in his chair, leaning back and trying to find something to take his attention elsewhere. He might as well have been in hell than there. The main torture was noise. It was _always_ noise. Be it the scraping of drinks across tables or the yells of drunkards and Dabo players. He loved the game, but not when others were playing it. Their giddy exclamations sounded like a shout right in his ear.

The second torture was the smell of the place. Not many knew it, but Vorta had unparalleled senses of smell; they even far surpassed Ferengi in that respect. At the moment, Weyoun wished he never had it incorporated into his genetic structure. The bar area was rancid with stenches from sweaty Nausicans to the acidic dozens of intoxicated exhales that were saturating the establishment. He hated the place more than any building he'd ever been in.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so horrid if he wasn't forced to sit on the upper balcony, where the accumulation of smells and noises waifed up the most. But it was the third torture that kept him there. Her.

He stayed his gaze from wandering toward her again, although he full knew she was still staring at him. Across the table, the only current Cardassian in Starfleet had her gaze lazily, if not unwaveringly, trained on him. Slouched and apparently unconcerned with anything, Fyi Jeluik remained unmoving in her blue science uniform. Earlier, Weyoun thought it looked uncomfortable to Cardassian necks, but after sitting there for such a time, he didn't care and hoped it was suffocating her. He fantasized about her falling over from oxygen deprivation by some miracle; that way he would've been free, even if it was just for five minutes. She had been guarding him for a couple of weeks now and he felt like jumping out an airlock if it meant getting away from her.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Glancing as menacingly as he could at her, Weyoun spoke up. "Must you do that?"

Still looking directly at him, the commander seemed to come out of a reverie and focused her eyes. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Weyoun's stomach felt as if it dropped to the deck-plates. She hadn't even been trying to stare, just making it _appear_ as if she were. He had been worrying over nothing. _How deviously torturous waste of time!_ "You have been staring at me for the past hour and a half. Do you have nothing better to do than to bore into me with your gaze?"

Fyi smiled, amused at his squirmy attitude. Stretching out, she crossed her ankles below the table and interlaced fingers behind her head. "I would if you weren't so pleasant to stare at."

Weyoun had reached the end of his charm, patience, and leniency. She was infuriating!!

Glaring as nastily as he could, he scowled at the Cardassian woman. "You really must be a worthless astronomer if your commanding officer assigned you to guard duty of a defenseless Vorta such as myself. Why you would even need to guard me is completely beyond comprehension and unnecessary. What could I do? I cannot contact the Dominion -- no being would answer me there -- and I can't even eliminate myself, no matter how much I wish I could. I am no threat to any of you."

"You're just a shadow of the old Dominion spirit. Obsolete..."

Fyi looked genuinely compassionate, which made the Vorta uncomfortable. He didn't trust sudden changes in tactics. It was probably just another way to toy with his self-security. He was rather pitiful when one's thought about it though; they'd taken everything away from him. His ability to terminate his existence, the respect he had with the Dominion. He wished there was at least someone who knew how he felt, but he was alone. This crafty officer couldn't even come close to knowing what it was like to be so far from home, forbidden to speak with friends. Yet even so, he held onto the hope that he could talk his way into more comfortable settings. "Exactly."

She pursed her lips, taking her arms down and leaning on her elbows. Inhaling, she seemed to consider his point.

"So... you see my standing?"

"Yes..."

A small smile made it onto his smooth visage. "I'm glad you understand. Perhaps... could you ask for lighter security on my behalf? Maybe room of my own?"

"No," she answered with an equally sweet smile.

Weyoun stared at her for a couple of seconds, his feeble hope dashed. Then she had the audacity to begin laughing in his face, which really aggravated him. "Do you find a twisted sense of pleasure in my misery here?"

"She likes to see how the mighty have fallen," answered a smooth voice from behind Weyoun. He looked at the source and grimaced immediately.

Garak walked over to his fiancée and put a hand on her shoulder. She smiled fondly up at him.

Trying to get off subject, Weyoun put his smugness back on. "Well, if it isn't the dynamic duo. The ambassador and the commander. Tell me, Garak, does she destroy your self-worth like she tortures her victims? Does she make your every waking moment a living hell when you're trying to have some free time from the pressures of the galaxy?"

Garak laughed shortly and ignored the man for the moment. "Enjoying yourself, my dear?"

"Oh, you have no idea," she replied. "And you were right. It worked like a charm."

"Ahh, I'm glad it did. Not many can pull it off to where it becomes an efficient weapon."

Smiling sultrily, Fyi rested her head on a propped up hand. "I had a good instructor."

The Vorta was highly irate now. If there was one thing he hated more than being there as piece of rubbish it was being ignored. "Oh how touching. If I possessed a human stomach, I would be emptying its contents at this very moment."

"Really, Weyoun, there is no need to get snippy," said Fyi with a superior air.

"Well, it isn't as if he could do anything. He's been excommunicated from the Dominion. He has no power," commented Garak.

"You Cardassians are all the same," said Weyoun with a dismayed inflection. "You aren't happy unless you are torturing or interrogating a defenseless subject."

Fyi pretended to be struck, clutching the upper part of her uniform with a gasp. "Oh! That truly burned; fiery words from a fallen dictator's lackey. I'm going to have to get to sickbay and have Julian operate on me."

Garak chuckled at her antics. She may have been only four years younger than him, but she could always add a levity to things. "Don't be too hard on him, my dear. I know it may be inexhaustibly enjoyable, but after all, we were both in a similar position to him not that long ago."

"Mmm, I suppose you're right," Fyi said dropping the faux pain and grinning at the Vorta.

Weyoun could barely tolerate this. "If I were still in the Dominion, you wouldn't be so confident."

"Would we?" said Fyi, her grin growing wider. But then her veneer changed again. She stopped teasing and stood from her chair. "You need to come back to reality, Weyoun. You are here on the Federation's flamboyant good graces. If they weren't so kind, you'd be on a penal asteroid right now."

"They wouldn't dare..." replied the Vorta uncertainly.

"There isn't much to stop them. Even I think they are being too lenient. So I suggest you stop whining about a position you are never getting back and face it;" Fyi leaned on the table, her scaled face close to his. "this is your new life. Make the best of it."

"How am I supposed to do that with people like you making it worse?" He desperately wished he wasn't such a coward. But his purple eyes shone with worry as her words rang around in his mind.

"You are right about one thing, though," said Garak, taking his fiancées hand and placing it on his arm. "Fyi has much better things to do than hover over you."

"Yes, I agree; this volunteer work may grow old after a while." She tapped her combadge. "Lieutenant Kitz, could you come down to Quark's? I believe your break is up now."

"_Right away, sir,_" answered the security chief with a laugh.

To Weyoun's shock, both Cardassians began walking away. "Are you sure you should be doing this?"

Fyi looked back at him before they descended the stairs.

"Leaving me here... is not a very wise course of action," he threatened as smoothly as he could muster.

Fyi smirked. "Who said we were leaving you alone?"

Just then, Lieutenant Kitz beamed in next to the Vorta. Fyi and Garak went down to the second level and he watched them walk out. Glancing at the lieutenant, Weyoun realized that his captors still took the threat he held seriously, but not enough to imprison him.

He really was powerless.

And very alone....


	2. Chapter 2: Opportunity

_**VeraSorger: **Thank you so much, Vera! :D I'm glad someone enjoys my stories!

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Walking cautiously, but pompously, the Ferengi ex-liquidator Brunt casually searched for the bartender. Not for a drink, but to make sure Quark wasn't there. Quark had threatened to kill him on more than one occasion and Brunt wanted to keep his distance.

He sauntered past the Dabo tables, causing two or three Ferengi waiters to look up. In reality, even if one didn't know him as a liquidator, Brunt looked and sounded like he knew what he was doing. A slender 1.6 meters, he was taller than most Ferengi – an abnormal trait. Although he may not have been able to audit anymore, he carried a formidable air of power that spread quickly. And he loved every bit of it. He relished the power he still held over others of his kind. The subtle shrinks that he evoked, the respect that almost flowed to him.

The only difference now was that he was broke. Ever since Rom became the Grand Nagus, Brunt had been stranded on the station without anything. But being a proud man, he still made it appear that he held a substantial quantity of profit. As much as it pained him to do so, he wouldn't spend the bar of latinum he wore around his neck for anything.

So there he was, ruined and incapable with only his outer façade and the dim shadow of revere he yet had. The only thing he could do was live by the seventh Rule of Acquisition: _Keep your ears open_.

Just then, Weyoun came down the steps of the upper level with the Starfleet lieutenant close behind. Brunt didn't give the Vorta much thought, grabbing a waiters arm and placing an order. "One snail juice, extra protoplasm."

Across the bar at the counter, Weyoun leaned on his forearms, softly ordering a decaf racktajino. Turning enough to face the security chief, he gave Kitz a pitiful look. "Can I not have some space from the Federation's oppressive hand?"

"How much space are we talking about?" replied Kitz.

Weyoun looked the human up and down neutrally. "Enough to where your breathing is no longer audible."

Kitz stared at him, unmoving; then slowly backed over to the nearest table.

After Brunt received his drink, he glanced over at the Vorta, wondering absently why he was being guarded like a prisoner. All Vorta were diplomats that had a compliment of Jem'hadar with them. Sipping his concoction, Brunt noticed a small group of Klingons coming into the bar. They also noted the diminutive Vorta and one of them grinned maliciously.

"So… this is the mighty warlord we fought for so many years. Weyoun, isn't it?" said the Klingon.

Brunt's large ears perked up immediately. _The_ Weyoun? The former dictator of the Dominon? Brunt thought the last one died on Cardassia six months ago.

The Vorta hesitated for a fraction of a second then stood roughly from his stool. He gave the Klingon his bravest glare, eyes flaming. "That's correct!"

Fairly surprised, Brunt sat up in his chair, as did several other people in the bar.

The Klingon smiled smugly down at Weyoun. "That's what I thought… I've been searching for your kind ever since the war started."

"Why would a Klingon be interested in Vorta?" replied Weyoun in a loud voice. "The war is over and there is no honor in going after us any longer."

The Klingon bristled at this. "Do you deliberately try to insult Klingon honor? A war is never over until the last enemy is slain. You are a cowardly, spineless people without any honor of _any _kind!"

"I have no fight with you. Or any Klingon in the Empire."

"Wrong again, Vorta. Your people will always be an enemy of the Empire, no matter what you do. Thousands of my people have died under your hand—some without any warning or chance to die in battle. Their honor must be reclaimed!" The Klingon reached under his armor and unsheathed a baq'tor, a long blade.

Finally, Kitz stood from his table. "Okay, I'd say this has gone far enough."

The Klingon's temper flared again. "Stay out of this, human. This is not a Starfleet matter."

"It is with him. Weyoun is a Federation prisoner; for you to interfere or injure him would bring you under Federation law… and charges. Now, would you like to leave this place freely or do you want to find out just how small a jail cell can be after three months?"

Weighing the options in his head, the Klingon sheathed his baq'tor and growled at Weyoun. The Vorta was still holding his ground, glaring daggers of his own into the man's skull.

All the while, Brunt was watching the scene unfold, more and more impressed with the Vorta's fortitude. As the group of Klingons left, an idea began forming in his head. What a perfect opportunity…

Weyoun sat down at his stool once more as the tall Ferengi made his way over to the seat next to him. Leaning back on the bar counter, Brunt spoke up when Kitz was occupied with another officer. "That was rather daring of you – shoving your face right in that Klingon's. I couldn't have done that if you'd paid me 300 bars."

"It wasn't daring, it was a blind… stupid move," said Weyoun, looking rather exhausted.

Brunt raised an eyebrow at Weyoun. "Then if it was so stupid, why did you do it?"

"Because… I have virtually nothing to lose."

Laughing inwardly, Brunt thought this was too good to be true. "It looks like we're in the same ship, then."

Weyoun looked puzzled for a moment. "I thought this was a station."

"I meant we're both in a similar predicament." Brunt turned to face the Vorta. "I'm hopeless, you're hopeless. I'm out of a job; you're out of a job. I'm stranded…" He leaned closer. "…you're stranded… We're both ripe for movement."

Glancing at Kitz warily, Weyoun dared himself to make another blind move. "What are you suggesting?"

Brunt grinned, baring his sharp, jagged teeth.


End file.
